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Updated: May 2, 2025
When they reached the wall of the Eperon, which separates the Saint-Germain forest from the Maisons-Laffitte Park, Labouise stopped his companion and explained his idea to him. Maillochon was moved by a prolonged, silent laugh. They threw into the water the grass which had covered the body, took the animal by the feet and hid it behind some bushes.
The ass, feeling itself free, was trying to get a little of the tall grass, but it was so exhausted that it swayed on its legs as if it were about to fall. Maillochon aimed slowly and said: "A little pepper for the ears; watch, Ghicot!" And he fired. The tiny shot struck the donkey's long ears and he began to shake them in order to get rid of the stinging sensation.
His name was Labouise, but he was called Chicot, and was in partnership with Maillochon, commonly called Mailloche, to practice the doubtful and undefined profession of junk-gatherers along the shore. They were a low order of sailors and they navigated regularly only in the months of famine. The rest of the time they acted as junk-gatherers.
Perhaps we might make a deal." Labouise, who seemed perplexed, pretended to consult Maillochon with a glance. Then he answered in a slow voice: "This is how it is. We were in the bushes at Eperon when something passed right near us, to the left, at the end of the wall. Mailloche takes a shot and it drops. We skipped on account of the game people. I can't tell you what it is, because I don't know.
Maillochon asked: "Well, what are we going to do now?" Labouise answered: "Don't worry, sister. Get the thing on the boat; we're going to have some fun when night comes." They went and got the boat. The animal's body was placed on the bottom, covered with fresh grass, and the two men stretched out on it and went to sleep.
Then Labouise, in great humor, got the gun and held it out to Maillochon, saying: "Each one in turn; we're going after big game, sister. Don't get so near or you'll kill it right away! You must make the pleasure last a little." He placed his companion about forty paces from the victim.
Toward noon Labouise drew a bottle of wine, some bread and butter and raw onions from a hiding place in their muddy, worm-eaten boat, and they began to eat. When the meal was over they once more stretched out on the dead donkey and slept. At nightfall Labouise awoke and shook his comrade, who was snoring like a buzzsaw. "Come on, sister," he ordered. Maillochon began to row.
The weapon had disappeared under the board which served as a hiding place and the rabbit was stuffed into Chicot's loose shirt. After about a quarter of an hour Labouise asked: "Well, sister, shall we get one more?" "It will suit me," Maillochon answered. The boat started swiftly down the current. The mist, which was hiding both shores, was beginning to rise.
He took up the oars again, and once more the boat disappeared in the heavy mist, which was now turned snowy white in the pink-tinted sky. "What kind of lead did you take, Maillochon?" Labouise asked. "Very small, number nine; that's the best for rabbits." They were approaching the other shore so slowly, so quietly that no noise betrayed them.
Maillochon reappeared with his gun wrapped up in rags. He was a man of forty or fifty, tall and thin, with the restless eye of people who are worried by legitimate troubles and of hunted animals. His open shirt showed his hairy chest, but he seemed never to have had any more hair on his face than a short brush of a mustache and a few stiff hairs under his lower lip. He was bald around the temples.
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